Post by Lessien Melwasul on May 18, 2009 19:48:30 GMT -5
~There weren't going to be anymore microphones. Nobody was paid enough to put one near her face at that particular point in time.~
"No excuses."
~Maybe that's what would have been heard if there had been microphone nearby. The freshly showered form of Lessien pulling the zipper closed on the leather kit bag that had lasted a career: rolls of tape, two packs of Lucky Strikes, her wrestling gear and a Glock buried underneath all the rest of that.~
"Worse than none, Alice."
~Love her ...~
"Loveless."
~Or join Graciela for the champagne parade of dead witches. In the end it didn't matter much, except for the absolute facts that: there would never be another one like Lessien and she would never been seen in the ring again in any city one could imagine. It was the end she had written with her own hand ... just like the personalized hells she had crafted for Crymson, Lilith, Drew and hundred others almost forgotten by now.~
"Hm."
~Betty expected no different. A parade? A gold watch? A virgin sacrificed in her name ... again? Sing a song about the end of a generation? Fuck that tired song. There was no generation that contained her ... she was singularly unique. A happening that burned 24/7 without a break ... without a pause ... without a single ounce of remorse for all the things they did. Enough to end the pity party? Perhaps ... but if someone had a calculator and time on their hands ... in a day or two they would figure out she had cleared well over 5 million dollars in a shattered economy.~
"Liquid."
"Rainy days."
~Blue jeans, boots, and that fucking coat ... anyone who saw her walk down the hall would know exactly who she was and had been. Registering it before they got the fuck out of her way. The sunglasses never hid her emotion all those years ... they reflected it perfectly. Lightless. Black.~
~She pushed the exit door open and breathed that fresh breath of change on the hard life, before lighting a cigarette ... the dragon's tail captured by a breeze. A puff of smoke traveling North by North-West. The same exact direction she began to walk.~
~Alice sang a song. Something about the bells of Kowloon.
Something about ...
The End.~
"No excuses."
~Maybe that's what would have been heard if there had been microphone nearby. The freshly showered form of Lessien pulling the zipper closed on the leather kit bag that had lasted a career: rolls of tape, two packs of Lucky Strikes, her wrestling gear and a Glock buried underneath all the rest of that.~
"Worse than none, Alice."
~Love her ...~
"Loveless."
~Or join Graciela for the champagne parade of dead witches. In the end it didn't matter much, except for the absolute facts that: there would never be another one like Lessien and she would never been seen in the ring again in any city one could imagine. It was the end she had written with her own hand ... just like the personalized hells she had crafted for Crymson, Lilith, Drew and hundred others almost forgotten by now.~
"Hm."
~Betty expected no different. A parade? A gold watch? A virgin sacrificed in her name ... again? Sing a song about the end of a generation? Fuck that tired song. There was no generation that contained her ... she was singularly unique. A happening that burned 24/7 without a break ... without a pause ... without a single ounce of remorse for all the things they did. Enough to end the pity party? Perhaps ... but if someone had a calculator and time on their hands ... in a day or two they would figure out she had cleared well over 5 million dollars in a shattered economy.~
"Liquid."
"Rainy days."
~Blue jeans, boots, and that fucking coat ... anyone who saw her walk down the hall would know exactly who she was and had been. Registering it before they got the fuck out of her way. The sunglasses never hid her emotion all those years ... they reflected it perfectly. Lightless. Black.~
~She pushed the exit door open and breathed that fresh breath of change on the hard life, before lighting a cigarette ... the dragon's tail captured by a breeze. A puff of smoke traveling North by North-West. The same exact direction she began to walk.~
~Alice sang a song. Something about the bells of Kowloon.
Something about ...
The End.~